The Hobbit and the Half-Breed
by robo-pie
Summary: Self-insert with no romance or other stupid stuff. Just a chick forced into an adventure by Gandalf and learns to grow up as she fights with Thorin and company, and forms friendships with the guys. SHe also has an actual purpose in the group. And don't worry, Bilbo is not overshadowed. Rated T for future fighting scenes.


**A/N: I know, I know. There are already tons of inserts/fics of ladies hitching a ride with Thorin and Company to adventure and stuff. But guess what? This story has:**

**-No romance**

**-No OOCness**

**-An awesome ending**

**-Awesome character development**

**-Awesome fun time in general.**

**Not that there are no other good Hobbit fics out there; just saying that a most of them are the opposite of what I listed, lol**

**s;flkdjgs;hj please review**

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The town of Bree was a constant buzz of energy. Every corner, shop, and stand was alive with healthy business and trade. Boys traded their meager allowances for a small toy, farmers sold their latest produce, and bartenders served food and drink to travelers stopping by. From the young to the old and from every race of all walks of life, there was buying and selling and trading.

Amongst the folk, however, was a particular group that did not come in for the business. The majority of this group were dwarves, named Nori, Dori, Ori, Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Bombur, Bofur, Bifur, Balin, and Dwalin. Their leader, Thorin Oakenshield, traveled elsewhere to speak with his kin. Their upcoming travels needed more recruits, for they were on a very crucial adventure indeed. A whole kingdom and its wealth of treasures were at hand.

Also with the dwarves was Gandalf the Grey. The reason for the start of this quest, the old wizard organized everyone to the small but comfortable inn they currently stayed at. The first day there, they had all sold the last of their wares and other unnecessary belongings; with the money they now had, they put aside for their shared rooms. All that remained was for them to await Gandalf's call to leave. For _whom_ they were to meet to start their adventure was not yet known.

For that very reason, Gandalf stood thoughtfully in his tiny, rented room. For this adventure, he needed a burglar and a hero. For the burglar, he already had someone in mind: or, more accurately, some-hobbit.

And this hobbit in question was Bilbo Baggins. His mother was a Took, and the Tooks had a history that was frowned upon among the others in the Shire, despite their wealth. Some say one of the Took men from long ago married a fairy girl, adding in the fey and whimsical side to the family. Instead of living cozy and proper lives within the limits of Hobbiton, many went on adventures, some even going into war! Yes, Master Baggins's Took blood would be ideal for helping the dwarves as their burglar, especially since all hobbits were quiet on their feet.

Bilbo was no real burglar of course; yet the Took in him, the wizard knew, would get the fidgety hobbit far in the quest. There was that queer, whimsical side to Bilbo that was just right, that tiny thirst for excitement and adventure that was just enough to help the thirteen other dwarves reach their destination. All that was left was to pay Master Baggins a visit and get him to sign up. Tricky and delicate as it would be to convince him to come along, Gandalf had his ways to make such a thing happen.

With the burglar decided, all that Gandalf needed was a hero.

But like he had told Thorin and the others, there were no heroes anywhere in Middle Earth, neither them nor adventurers. He searched high and low for one himself and no one worthwhile was found. There were princes, men of nobility, soldiers, and even a few young men who were itching for something new in life; but they were not enough. A hero had to have that quality of not wanting to be a hero in the first place, and he had to go on this quest for selfless reasons, not for his own gain. Gandalf claimed that the burglar would be enough for the dwarves, but even he felt that they all needed a hero of those very qualities.

That was why he stood there in his tiny room in the inn, stroking his long, scraggly beard thoughtfully as he stood looking out the window. Gandalf the Grey, the man of action who was constantly pulling and pushing chosen souls this way and that for various quests, simply stood there, thinking deeply. Even a busy wizard such as himself had to stop and think on what to do.

Still, what could he do? There were no heroes or adventurers. No one in Middle Earth could ever accomplish the task he would assign them. No one in Middle Earth could enter with a neutral mind and finish the business that needed to be done with honest intent. No one in Middle Earth was pure in heart and truly willing to help those that needed it the most. No one in Middle Earth was brave enough to do any of that.

Then, Gandalf paused in his thinking, an idea coming onto him.

"No heroes...in _Middle Earth_." Gandalf muttered to himself. He stopped stroking his beard and grinned that knowing grin of his. Before the idea that popped into his head could be extinguished from doubt, he turned swiftly and walked out the door. His robes whipped in the air behind him as he rushed down the hall.

He was going to summon a hero, a hero from another realm altogether: a hero to help restore peace in the hero-less lands called Middle Earth.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Ginnie, you sure you're alright?"

The young woman turned, forcing a small smile onto her face as she looked onto the nun. She had been distracted, and it had shown during Mass and during the RCIA group session. Still, her friend, Sister Anne, did not deserve to be the brunt of her feelings.

"Nah, I'm alright. I guess I'm just tired." Ginnie told her. The religious smiled back and patted her back.

"Well, have a good rest of the Sunday then. I'll see you next week."

"See ya."

The moment Ginnie walked out of the door and into the parking lot, she dropped her smile. She was not angry or upset, but rather disturbed.

For the past month, a dream had invaded her sleep. The first time she had it, it was fuzzy and surreal. She brushed it off, knowing that people had weird dreams all the time; why worry over one? But then it progressed over time, the blurry shapes taking the form of a tall, pale man, and a smaller, dark-haired one. Then it became more violent and gritty, and they started fighting. After a couple weeks, she could see that they were in a battle. And at the end every time, the pale figure was about to kill the dark-haired man. And every time, just before he struck the deadly blow, Ginnie would jolt awake.

She walked around the parking lot now, letting the cold air bite at her exposed ears and fingers. She wore nothing but her jeans, boots, and nice sweater, having forgot her coat before leaving home. She had been forgetting a lot of things since the dreams started. The lack of sleep and eeriness of the dreams were enough to skew her composure. Ginnie lightly scolded herself for letting the others notice.

A rock was kicked, skidding down and getting run over by a departing car. The nightmare had to mean _something_; Ginnie simply couldn't understand _what_ though. The whole thing was, well, not normal. There were no people on the planet as tall and pale white as the pearly figure, and no one she knew who resembled the hairy man. Was it stress making her dream such things? Not surprising, considering she was engaged and planning not just her wedding, but working to save up money for her future life.

Still, it seemed too far-fetched to be just stress. You had one stress dream, maybe two; from there, the problem was already solved or was being worked on. But her nightmares? They were something completely different.

Ginnie sighed, watching her breath form into a tiny cloud before dissipating. She finally took a seat on the front bench and clutched her purse to her chest, curling up for warmth. Nightmares or no, it was still freezing outside and she didn't know how much longer she could wait for her ride.

Just then, a gust of cool air blew into her face, causing dirt and snow to fly up her nose. She sneezed violently as she bent forward and fell. Instead of hitting hard concrete, however, she landed onto something rather soft, and cushioned.

Slowly, still a bit dazed from the fall, Ginnie looked up. The church was no longer behind her, and she certainly wasn't on the parking lot. Lush grass lay beneath her, a small thicket of trees surrounded her and the air was much warmer. She looked up, noticing the green foliage. It had to be late summer.

Wait, summer? Since when? It was December, or was supposed to be. And wasn't it snowing just moments before? Ginnie jumped up, looking around. Panicking a little, the young woman began to walk around. It was a few seconds before she found herself on a cobble stone road, a small town seen only a few hundred yards away. There was a wooden wall around it. A very tall wooden wall. It reminded Ginnie of the English pilgrim settlements.

Not knowing what else to do, she walked to it. It was better than being stranded in the woods at least. A warm breeze blew gently at her back, almost as if easing her into that direction; the sun also shined rather warmly on her body. The drastic change in temperature was nearly enough to make her feel disoriented.

Ginnie was now at the door. She could hear the typical noises of a town inside: people speaking, arguing, maybe even bargaining. And was that the clip-clops of a horse?

"Uh...hello?" she called out, knocking on the door. Just after she knocked, a man from the inside opened a primitive peep hole, looking at her.

"Name and business."

"...What?"

"Name and business, ye twit!" the man huffed impatiently. Ginnie placed her hands on her hips defensively.

"I'm Ginnie and I'm walking. What's it to you?"

"No need to get snippy, lass." the man grumbled, opening the door. When Ginnie walked in, he saw that the man was dressed rather strange. Actually, it was very strange. He, like the others standing by, looked as if they were dressed for some sort of historical, medieval fair; however, they pulled the part very convincingly. It wasn't the typical flowery dress-up, but rather a historically accurate style of peasant clothing. They even smelled the part and looked dusty from traveling and working.

"Ha! Travelers and adventurers! They all dress funny." the man said to the others, who looked to all be guards. Ginnie just rolled her eyes and walked on, wanting to look for some sort of tourist center to ask for directions.

Because apparently there was a climate-controlled medieval fair going on in the middle of a winter-ridden Missouri. Yeah, that made sense.

As she walked on, Ginnie saw that the town continued on with the medieval theme, minus the hay/manure roofings. There didn't seem to be any sort of modern building anywhere, nor did the road eventually branch off into a paved road. She frowned.

And then there were the townsfolk as well, looking as well worn as their businesses and shops. There were stands selling knobbly, strange looking vegetables and fruits, old men and women selling their handcrafted wares, people of all shapes and sizes rushing about on the street. Some seemed to be speaking languages she couldn't recognize.

So far, nothing looked even close to a tourist center. She passed by a bakery, a butcher shop (with a half-cow hanging from the window), and even a couple general shops. Still, Ginnie could not find a place that looked useful for asking directions.

She had to find something soon. People were giving her funny looks, and the strangely dressed young lady had already nearly knocked over a rickety table topped with priceless looking fabrics and silks.

As Ginnie tried to walk off the embarrassing episode, a sign just a ways down the road caught her eye: The Prancing Pony. It looked to be an inn, or pub. Knowing travelers would stop by at such places, she hurried in her step and shoot through the crowd to get to it. It was more or less taller than the other buildings around it, with dusty windows and the smell of pub fare in the air. Boisterous talking and laughter was heard inside. It was funny to hear such a place so energetic during the day. Peeking through the window, she saw a tall, grey-robed man with a long beard, sitting with shorter, also bearded men at a large table. There were plenty of other customers inside, but that particular group caught her eye the most.

Knowing there was no where else to go to, Ginnie walked inside; she stood up as straight as possible and walked up to the where the bartender was.

"Excuse me, but I need directions." she said as confidently as she could. Before the man could reply, a voice spoke behind her.

"Ah, the adventurer! I was worried you would be late."

Ginnie turned, bending her head back to look up at the same, tall figure she had spotted earlier.

"If you're willing, and of course you are, there is a seat saved for you just over there."

Without waiting for so much as a protest, the much taller man half-pushed her to the table with the others, who were shorter than she had thought, and all looking either disgruntled or judgmental at her sudden entrance.

"My friends, meet the adventurer I was just telling you about. She will be with you on your quest to the Lonely Mountain." Gandalf said with an inviting grin

"...What?" was all she could reply with.


End file.
